


Dreams Of Paradise

by PhoukYiou



Category: Original Work
Genre: A Tolran Adventure, Action/Adventure, Fantasy, Gen, Original Character(s), Please Critique, Plot-Driven
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:28:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26082706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoukYiou/pseuds/PhoukYiou
Summary: Donovan Felman is a young nobleman who never really had much responsibility in his life, being the youngest of several children. When responsibility is thrust upon him, he seeks to weasel his way out of it, only to find that he is about to have a lot more pressure put on him, and is forced along to escape the coming calamity. Will he be able to stand up to trials before him, or will he crack under the weight of this world?





	Dreams Of Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> My first work on this site, just testing the waters with it a little bit. I was forced to repost this, as my computer wouldn't let me edit it for some reason. Please leave comments down below letting me know if you enjoyed it and would like to see it turn into a grand adventure, or with just some form of criticism for me.

Monotony. Yes, that is what his life had become. Day after day was spent toiling away, all at the command of those around him. His food had little taste, his sleep was dreamless, and the fire that once filled his eyes was now dulled to ashes. When did he become so dull?

The boy, Donovan by name, sat before the lively hearth, pondering these sorts of solemn thoughts. Being he was the youngest of eight sons to a lesser nobleman, had enjoyed a particular level of freedom in his youth, as no one truly cared whether he grew to be successful or turned into a beggar. That was until his many brothers had been sent off to fight and die in a blasphemous war on distant shores. Where once his days were spent roaming the woods or playing with the animals in the nearby village, now was filled with tedious lectures of history and philosophy, his gluttonous diet replaced with dishes that were considered 'of good taste'. Disgusting. This, and more, he mulled over with disdain, his agitation obvious to anyone who might look upon him. 

He was a rather simple boy, nearly at the age of which many considered manhood. His hair was as dark as coal, hanging down just past his shoulders, an untidy mess that he had long since stopped caring for. His scathing eyes were a rich, deep bronze, somehow filled with a passion for the world around him whilst never failing to maintain a sense of animosity towards those around him. While not as robust or powerful in build as his older siblings, he was by no means a weakling, with light muscles all along his lean frame, his fair skin lightly marred with the scars and scrapes of a careless child left to wander. He wore about him a simple, lavender nightgown, having already discarded the stuffy 'noble' clothes he was forced to wear in the presence of others.

With a sullen sigh at the predicament with which he found himself, Donovan rose to his feet, walking across the cold, wood floor, passing by bookshelf and nightstand alike, to stand at the foot of his own bed, which had been made for him by a maid that morning. It was enough to bring him to conniptions, how the treatment he received had changed so drastically now that it was unlikely that his seemingly more important siblings were likely not to return. _Serves them right,_ he thought to himself. After all, they volunteered for this task 'for the people'. As if anyone in this household cared about the common man. They rarely bothered to care whenever the townsfolk were in need.

 _God I'm beginning to sound just like my grandfather_ , He thought to himself, shaking from his growing revere. Throwing on a simple, stained tunic and some trousers, Donovan made his way to the window, throwing open the latch upon it and breathing in the air. The sky was dark, filled with smoke and ash as it always was, the landscape before him lit only by a dim aurora of blues and greens. All around the manor with which he had spent his childhood were walls of stone that kept out the critters of the nearby woods. The trees were bare and leafless this time of year, as the first ashfall had already swept through, coating the ground in a soft, puffy gray layer.

To any unsuspecting traveler to this land this sight would likely be one of beauty, and easily mistaken for a winter landscape. Nay, the land which he called home, the old kingdom of Miravar, was one of constant volcanic activity, from a pair of great volcanoes that rose in the western bulk of the continent. Day after day it threw smoke into the air, blotting out the sun and moon from the sky, and creating this darkened landscape with which he was familiar. During the early months of the year, the winds of the world would blow in with the cooling of the planet, stirring up the smoke and preventing ash from falling, allowing some reprieve for life to grow and prosper. And yet, as the rest of the world experienced lively summers, the winds changed sent his land into an ashen 'winter'.

Soon, he won't be able to even step outside without precautions for fear of inhaling ash, so he might as well make the most of it while he can, right? It was this logic that spurred Donovan forward, the boy climbing down from this second floor window, clinging to the many vines that grew across the stone bricks of his home. He took one look around as to make sure no one was around at the moment, before confidently strutting his way towards the front gate. Today, he was going to have one last adventure. And what an adventure he would make it.


End file.
